Parentlock! At The Daycare
by Irene Moriarty xx
Summary: [Non-Johnlock] Three years after meeting his secret sister and solving the mystery of his childhood friend, Sherlock Holmes and his new wife Molly Hooper settle down into 221B with their daughter. This is my first published work on this site, hope you enjoy! Rated T for mild violence. P.S The prequel, New Beginnings, is out now! You can find it on my profile page.
1. Ivy Elizabeth Holmes

All was quiet in 221B Baker Street, except for the shifting of a father rocking back and forth and the small sounds of his baby sleeping peacefully. The moonlight shone over the room from the narrow window, the light reflected in Sherlock's wide-awake eyes.

Sherlock yawned and rubbed his eyes, careful not to disturb his daughter. He patted her gently on the back as he quietly checked his watch. It was 1:17 am. With a start he realized that she had just turned 1 year old 20 minutes ago.

With a small smile, he pressed his face to her brown curls and whispered, "Happy birthday darling."

The door opened with a creak. Molly stepped in.

"Do you want me to take over now?" Molly asked him softly.

"Only if you want," Sherlock responded.

Hearing her mother's voice the baby began to stir and opened her eyes.

"Ma-ma..." she reached her little hands out but started coughing again. _Poor thing,_ Sherlock thought _, sick on her birthday!_

Molly took her from Sherlock's sore arms and cradled her, humming a lullaby under her breath.

Sherlock made his way back to the bed and laid down for the first time in what seemed like hours.

 _Ivy Elizabeth Holmes_

His daughter, his beautiful special daughter, Ivy. Sherlock had picked out the name himself, to John's surprise, for her forest green eyes. And Elizabeth, for the woman who saved his life and thereby the reason him and Molly and Ivy were all together as a family.

On John and Mary's wedding day he had taken a vow to protect their family. A vow that he had promised would be his last, but as he stared up at Molly and Ivy, the two people he loved most in the world, he found himself repeating the words he had said all those years ago.

 _Molly Hooper and Ivy Holmes,_

 _Whatever it takes, whatever happens,_

 _From now on I swear I will always be there,_

 _Always, for both of you._


	2. Like Father, Like Daughter

"Give it back," Rosie tugged on the pistol, trying to free it from the grasp of her friend, "it's MINE!" With a final pull Rosie yanked it out of Ivy's hands. The force of it sent her flying onto the table with a loud _thump_.

"It's daddy's!" Ivy argued, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

"He said I could have it!" Rosie countered, but her resolve crumbled as she noticed Ivy sniffling. Even though Rosie was three years older than Ivy, they were best friends and practically sisters. Rosie hated to make Ivy cry.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs. "Oh dear, is that a gun?"

Ivy wiped her eyes. "Daddy said I could play with it but Rosie's trying to steal it from me!"

"No!" Rosie said. "It's a birthday gift for me from Uncle Sherlock!"

"I didn't give it to either of you," A voice said from the staircase. Sherlock walked up into the room holding a bag of groceries, John behind him.

"Girls," he said, more exasperated than angry, "leave the gun alone. The smiley face is only for me to shoot. Ivy, if Mummy says so, I can paint a bumblebee on the wall downstairs for you to practice on. Rosie—"

"Rosie will not be playing with a gun!" John protested, "She's seven!"

"Problem?" Sherlock asked, setting down the groceries.

Just then, Molly opened the door with yet another bag of groceries.

"Ivy darling, they were out of the honey crackers so instead I—Oh my god, is that a gun?!" She stopped in her tracks, face white.

Sherlock bent down and hastily scooped the pistol off the floor before stuffing it in his robe.

"Sherlock!" Molly exclaimed. "Don't leave your weapons lying around the flat where the girls can get to them. Just yesterday I caught Rosie playing with your sabre!"

"Auntie Molly, I told you not to tell!" Rosie whimpered.

"I'm sorry dear, but Auntie needs to keep you and Ivy safe." Molly turned back to Sherlock, her tone becoming much sharper. "Well?"

"Sorry Molly." Sherlock mumbled, withering in his wife's stern look. "I'll put them away next time." However, as soon as Molly left the room he bent down and whispered to Ivy, "But if you're a good girl maybe I'll teach you how to use one someday." Sherlock winked at his daughter who gave a mischievous giggle.

"Like father, like daughter," John remarked, smiling, "You know, between her dad's intelligence and her mom's grit, she could give you a run for your money, Sherlock. Ivy Holmes, the world's _best_ consulting detective!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but ruffled Ivy's curly hair with a smile on his face.


	3. Jolly Old Saint Sherlock

"Exactly why am I doing this again?" Sherlock complained from the bedroom as Molly held a pair of black boots and a red hat.

"Keep your voice down," she chuckled passing him a belt under the door, "and you are doing this for our daughter and Rosie."

"And Mycroft," Sherlock replied, "I'm sure he'll be bringing over his camera too."

Molly grinned as Sherlock emerged, dressed up in a red fatsuit and a fake silver beard glued to his chin, a scowl on his face. Aside from his black curls, which would be covered up as soon as he put the hat on, he looked exactly like Santa Claus.

"Put these on," Molly said, waving the boots at him, "and hide in the back. John should be bringing Rosie and Ivy home any minute now. Oh, and smile!"

Sherlock looked up just in time to see Molly snap a picture of him.

"Why did I marry you?" He jokingly lamented.

"Cause you're an idiot," Molly brushed the fake beard aside and gave him a small kiss on his cheek, "now go on and make this the best Christmas ever!"

Sherlock slowly hobbled down the staircase, gripping the railing. Down below Molly heard Mrs. Hudson's hysterical giggles as she caught sight of Sherlock. _This is going to be great_. Molly smirked.

ooOoo

"Uncle John, where's daddy?" Ivy asked, plopping herself down on the rug.

"He had to work late on a case," John replied, pouring himself a cup of tea, "I'm sorry Ivy." Him and Molly exchanged looks and they had to bite their lips to keep from smiling.

"Oh," Ivy looked a bit disappointed but her face immediately brightened when Rosie entered the room, twirling in a sparkly scarlet skirt.

"Ivy! Look what Mrs. Hudson gave me!" Rosie said happily, showing it to her friend. Ivy rubbed the sequins in wonder.

Just then there was a knock on the door and in stepped Mycroft. He was wearing a drab black suit with his umbrella but in his hand was a colorful red and green bag with little reindeer on it.

"Uncle Mycroft!" Rosie and Ivy chorused in unison and ran over to give him a hug. Mycroft looked slightly flustered, he gave them two small pats on the head and gently pulled them off him.

"Happy Christmas Mrs. Hudson, John, Molly. This is for you Rosamund," Mycroft pulled a present out of the bag, "And Ivy." He handed her another box. The wrapping paper was perfectly wrapped with a bow tie taped on.

"Anthea wrapped them," Mycroft continued. "She sends her love as well. Now then, where is my dear brother? I must wish him a happy Christmas before I am on my way."

Molly looked towards the fireplace. "Well, he's—"

 _CRASH!_ Ivy and Rosie jumped back in alarm as a huge banging and clanking noise came from the fireplace. There was a deafening silence in the flat, then suddenly the grill in the fireplace opened and out stepped Saint Nicholas.

"Santa Claus?" Ivy asked, "Is that you?"

"Yes, it is me!" Sherlock-Santa exclaimed in a horrible French accent, "Happy Christmas! What would you two like?"

"Chocolate!" Rosie giggled happily, "Lots and lots of chocolate!"

"Well, I have just the thing Rosamund!" He replied, pulling two bars of chocolate out of his pockets. "And you, Ivy Elizabeth Holmes, what do you want for Christmas?"

"Uh..." Ivy wasn't sure. It was a great Christmas so far, but someone was missing. "Daddy," she answered, "I want my daddy."

Santa's eyes twinkled. "Well, Ivy, come over here, make a deduction and tell me what you see."

Ivy slowly walked over and stared at Santa. "There's something shiny on your face. I think it's glue," she started, "Why would there be glue on your face? You must've glued something to it then recently. But the only thing I can see on your face is your beard. Therefore...it must be fake." Ivy reached up and pulled the beard off, revealing a familiar set of very pronounced cheekbones.

"Daddy?" Ivy giggled, "You look ridiculous!"

"Haha! Uncle Sherlock is Santa Claus!" Rosie pointed. Ivy looked around the flat. Everyone was laughing, even Uncle Mycroft and Uncle Graham, who were taking photos. Sherlock plucked Ivy off the ground and spun her around happily.

"Darling, I have something for you!" Sherlock carried her down the stairs, Molly following them, and opened the door leading into 221C

"Why are we going to Uncle John's flat?" Ivy wondered aloud.

"Because you are a very smart girl," Sherlock answered. "And if we hid your present in 221B you'd be sure to find it in a heartbeat!"

Sherlock set Ivy down and she walked in. She hadn't been here a lot — Rosie and her generally played upstairs in 221B or outside when it was warmer. The flat was furnished similarly to hers but it was much cleaner and less dustier. Molly led Ivy into a closet and pulled out a green package.

"Happy Christmas, dear." Molly said.

Ivy tore open the present and gasped. It was a black coat, exactly like the one Daddy wore, but a bit smaller. And folded neatly inside was a pretty green scarf with beaded tassels on the end. The stripes on it seemed to shimmer whenever she turned it over.

"It was Mummy's idea," Sherlock informed her, "I picked it up from the tailor this morning and told Uncle John to keep it here."

Ivy ran over and gave her parents a big hug. "It's the best present ever! Maybe I can be a part-time lab assistant and part-time detective when I grow up!"

"This is the best Christmas ever," Sherlock replied.

"I thought you hated Christmas," Molly said lightly.

"Mycroft hates it. I don't anymore, now that I have a family to spend it with," Sherlock said with a smile and a wink.


	4. Uncle Mycroft

Ivy didn't like Uncle Mycroft's house. It was all dark and grownup-y. There were no knives for Ivy and Rosie to play with and all the furniture was hard, so Ivy couldn't jump into the chairs.

The only upside was Auntie Eliza, Uncle Mycroft's girlfriend. Or Lady Smallwood, as he introduced her. She could bake the most delicious cakes and Uncle Mycroft always let Ivy and Rosie sample them.

But today Auntie Eliza wasn't here, she was at some fancy government meeting. So it was just Uncle Mycroft and her in his big, dull, boring house.

"Ivy, where are you? It's getting late," Mycroft called, "also my brother has informed me that he will be working late, so you'll need to stay over."

Ivy groaned internally. She wondered where she was going to sleep, since the guest room already had Auntie Alicia's stuff in it and the only other room was Mycroft's.

"Where will I be sleeping? Also, I need my pajamas." Ivy replied.

"I'll show you." Mycroft appeared out of nowhere, holding a blanket and a pillow. "Come on."

Mycroft led Ivy to the staircase. It was very extra, as Daddy put it. The wood had little dragons carved into it and it was very big.

When they reached the top Ivy expected for them to continue down the hallway where the bedrooms were. But to Ivy's surprise, Mycroft walked over to a small brown door Ivy had never noticed before. Actually, she probably had, but she always assumed it was some sort of storage room or cupboard.

"What's in there?" Ivy asked, "How come I've never been in there before?"

"I prefer to keep it locked," Mycroft answered her, "but you'll be staying here for tonight. This night only."

Mycroft opened the door and Ivy gasped. The room was covered in pink drapes and a crystal chandelier in the middle of the room. There were a couple stuffed animals on the shelves and a small desk in the corner. The bed had a curtain around it and by the windowsill was a small bench, books neatly arranged under it.

Mycroft stepped in and laid the blanket and pillow out on the bed.

"You'll find some pajamas in there," he gestured to a white dresser, "they should be around your size." He left, closing the door with a snap.

Ivy slowly walked in. If she had to make a guess, it belonged to a girl around her age. But who could it be?

She sat down on the windowsill and cautiously opened the window. There was a small fenced in courtyard outside. Ivy was confused. She had never seen this courtyard before, even outside. It must've been in the back. There was a layer of dust over everything but she was used to that — Daddy never dusted the flat.

Ivy crawled down and walked over to the desk. There were three drawers, which all had stuff in it, but the first two were the usual — blank paper, erasers, pencils. They offered no clue as to who had lived here. However, the third was locked, but when she shook it she could hear stuff inside rattling around.

 _Aha!_ She thought to herself triumphantly. _Maybe I can find something in here! But I can't open it, Uncle Mycroft must've locked it before I came._

Thankfully, Uncle John had taught her how to pick a simple lock with nothing but two paperclips.

Ivy went back to the first drawer and pulled out a box of paperclips. Bending them into the correct shapes, she crouched down and began to work on the lock. It took a few tries, her paperclips sometimes broke, but finally on her fifth attempt the lock opened with a click.

Ivy reached in to the drawer, pulling out a stack of papers and a box. She quietly opened the box, expecting something great, something fascinating. Instead, it was just an old yellowed photo.

She held it up to the light and blew on it. With a smile, she recognized the people in it. There was Grandma and Grandpa, their faces younger and more fuller but still the same; Uncle Mycroft, slightly more plump but with a familiar scowl on his face; and two boys and a girl, each one grinning ear to ear. The first boy had curly auburn hair and was wearing a pirate hat that was too big, it fell down to his ears. With a start, Ivy realized that it was Daddy. It was weird to see him so happy, the only times he smiled these days was when Mommy came home from work or when he was playing with her or Rosie.

The second boy was wearing an eyepatch and wielded a plastic sword. He had short blond hair, but Ivy couldn't recognize him. It couldn't have been Uncle John, they didn't look alike at all. Oh well, she'd come back to that later.

The last mystery person, a young girl with brown hair stood off to the side, standing up straight with a neutral, emotionless face. It was the same expression Daddy always made when he was on his computer looking at cases. Could this girl be the former owner of the room?

There was something on the back of the photo. Ivy turned it over. In meticulously neat handwriting the words _Mummy, Daddy, Mycroft, Sherlock, Victor, Eurus_ were written.

Ivy knew it was probably not a good idea, but she tucked the photo into her pocket and shifted her attention to the papers. To her surprise, most of them were burned, but she could see the outline of melted crayon. That's when she noticed some of the lines connected with other lines on the other papers. Ivy laid them all down on the floor and began piecing them together.

It was hard work. Some of the edges were missing, but after half-an-hour of work, Ivy thought she had it figured out. She backed up a little to see it all and gasped.

They were a collection of drawings of a stick-figure boy that had been vigorously scribbled over time and time again. The pictures themselves didn't make any sense, but written across all of the sheets were the words "Kill Sherlock"

ooOoo

"Are you feeling okay?" Mycroft asked the next day at breakfast, "You seem quiet."

Ivy picked at her scrambled eggs. She couldn't sleep after what she had discovered the night before. Why would someone write that? And then burn it? What was Uncle Mycroft trying to hide from her?

"I'm okay," Ivy said, but suddenly she blurted out, "Who wants to kill my daddy?"

Mycroft looked taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Ivy regretted her sudden outburst. "I saw some crayon drawings and I found a family photo with dad in it. Who's Eurus and Victor?"

"You opened it, didn't you?" Mycroft sighed, "Well, you are my brother's daughter. Curiosity seems to be genetic in our family. Victor Trevor, was your dad's best friend. The girl, Eurus, is Sherlock's—our, sister. Your aunt."

"I have an aunt?" Ivy asked blankly. She never remembered Daddy telling her about any sibling except for Uncle Mycroft. "What happened to her? Can I meet her?"

Mycroft gave her a small smile. "All in good time. I'll let my dear brother explain everything to you one day, when you're ready."

Just then the door opened and Sherlock stepped in.

"Go on now," Mycroft told her, "and let's keep your findings between us two for now, will you?"

"Okay." Ivy agreed. For the first time in her life, she actually found herself excited for the next time she could return to Uncle Mycroft's house. Ivy had a funny feeling that there was more to the mystery of Eurus and Daddy's friend, Victor Trevor, but as she promised her uncle, she'd keep her inquiring thoughts to herself, for now.


	5. A Face From the Past

"Mom, why are you taking so many photos?" Ivy complained.

"It's you first day of secondary school," Molly replied, "And it's a big occasion for all of us!"

"Yeah but you've taken, like, six already!" Ivy exclaimed, "I'm going to be late."

"Alright dear, just be careful, stay safe, and stay with Rosie." Molly put the camera down and gave her a quick hug. "We'll see you after school, have fun! Oh and remember that your bus leaves at 4:15."

Ivy grabbed her school bag and trotted down the stairs, but at the last second her dad popped out.

"What now?" Ivy asked, but she was smiling.

"I know you, Ivy." Sherlock said. "And I also know that you don't plan on taking the bus, not today, not ever."

Ivy closed her eyes. Her dad really could see through everything. "It's just, the bus is filled with all those annoying loud kids with their friends. And I don't have many friends, except for Rosie. It makes me feel weird."

"Well then, there really is no point in trying to convince you otherwise, but if you plan on walking home I'd like you to have this." Sherlock pressed a small brown-and-yellow pocketknife in her hand. "Just in case. Don't take it out of your bag at school, and most importantly, don't tell anyone. Not even Rosie. But keep it ready after you clear the campus."

"Dad, it's only a fifteen minute walk—" she protested.

"A lot can happen in fifteen minutes, especially if you're by yourself and passing through dark alleys. Trust me, Uncle John and I would know." Sherlock said, a dark expression coming onto his face. But as quickly as it had arrived, it dissolved back into a smile. "Well, I don't want to keep you. You'd better get going."

"Thanks dad." Ivy quickly left.

ooOoo

Ivy sat by herself at the lunch table, as usual. She didn't mind not having many friends, but being surrounded by all the chatter and laughter of others made her stick out like a sore thumb. _Oh well,_ she thought. _Better get used to it, after all, I don't see myself becoming like them anytime soon, do I?_

However, all that changed the moment he sat down next to her.

"Mind if I sit here?" He asked her. His eyes and hair were as black as the night but he had a friendly expression on his face. "Everywhere else is full with...friends."

Ivy found herself liking this boy immediately. He didn't seem like the obnoxious cool kids as she was accustomed to.

"Sure, yeah." Ivy cleared her books off the table. "I'm Ivy. Ivy Holmes."

"Orion, nice to meet you." He said, holding out his hand.

Orion proved to be good company. They shared many of the same interests, and soon they got to the subject of crime.

"Yeah, my dad's a consulting detective. He solves crimes and cases," Ivy informed him. "And my mum's a pathologist."

"That's cool." Orion replied. "Does that mean she works in a morgue, with dead people?"

"Yeah," Ivy answered. "Barts Hospital. How about you? What do your mum and dad do?"

"I don't have a dad," Orion said. Ivy felt bad for bringing up the subject. "At least, I've never met him before. He left before I was born."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Ivy started sympathetically.

"No it's fine," Orion said, cracking a smile. "I mean, if he has the gall to run out on his pregnant wife, that's on him. Besides, it's great living with my mum, just the two of us. She's pretty cool, she lets me watch any movie I want as long as my homework is done, no matter how late it gets."

"I wish my parents were like that," Ivy sighed. "My mum and dad always make sure I'm in bed by 9, so I can't watch telly except on the weekends. Anyways, do you live in London? I haven't seen you around."

"No, we live farther out of the city," Orion said. "My mom works in Central London though, so she has to take the tube early every morning, and she doesn't get back till late. I wish I had a sibling or something, it would pass the hours real well."

"Would you like to come over to my flat this afternoon?" Ivy blurted. "We can work on that science project together."

"Sure, thanks! That'd be great." Orion said, standing up. The dismissal bell rang. Ivy bent down to pick up her lunchbox but when she stood up Orion was already gone.

ooOoo

"Dad? Mum? I'm home!" Ivy called out, taking off her shoes. Orion hung his coat up by the door. "Mum? Are you there?"

Instead it was Mrs. Hudson who replied. "Yoo-hoo! Is that you Ivy?" She came out, holding a frying pan. "Oh, hello, what's your name?" Mrs. Hudson said, taking notice of Orion.

"Orion, this is my godmother and landlady, Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson, this is Orion. He's a friend from school." Ivy introduced them. "We're working on a science project together."

"Nice to meet you, Orion." Mrs. Hudson shook his hand. "Well now, I'll make some tea and biscuits for you lot then. Be back soon." She winked and left for the kitchen.

Orion and Ivy went upstairs into the living room and Ivy reached for her dad's laptop. The next couple of hours passed by in a blur, as they jotted down notes and glued pictures to a poster board, while snacking on the tea and biscuits. Rosie also came up to 'help', which in her book meant chatting. They hadn't noticed how dark the sky had gotten until the door downstairs opened.

"Rosie? Ivy? We're home!" Uncle John called out from the lobby, Sherlock brushing leaves of his shoes.

"Up here!" Rosie yelled back. John and Sherlock stepped into the room.

"Oh, and who is this?" Sherlock regarded Orion curiously. "I'm Ivy's father."

"Hi, I'm Orion, we're friends from school." Orion waved back amiably.

"Oh, a friend!" Sherlock exclaimed. "How interesting!"

"It's not rocket science, dad." Ivy rolled her eyes, laughing. "Look at you and Uncle John."

"Do you need a ride home?" Uncle John asked. "I'm John, by the way. Rosie's dad."

"Nice to meet you. And no, I already phoned my mum. Actually she should be here soon. I better get my stuff." Orion grabbed his bag, Ivy and Rosie collecting the papers that had been scattered throughout the flat. "See you tomorrow Ivy. And nice to meet you Rosie." With that, he swiftly left down the stairs.

The doorbell rang. "Hi mum," they heard Orion say. Sherlock, John and Ivy went down to meet her.

"This is my friend Ivy," Orion said to her. His mom had short brown hair and a startlingly red shade of lipstick.

"Hi, I'm Orion's mom." She said. "I'm glad Orion finally made a friend today, he can be so socially awkward sometimes!" Orion have her am embarrassed look. "Anyways, I'm afraid we must be going now, it was lovely to meet you—" Suddenly she stopped short, staring up at the stairs. Ivy looked back to see Sherlock and John with shocked expressions on their faces.

"Hello Irene." Sherlock said smoothly, breaking the silence. "Long time no see."


	6. A Face From the Past (Cont)

"So," Sherlock started, pouring himself a cup of tea, "you're back in London. How did that happen? Tea?"

"No thank you," Irene waved her hand, "And it's a very long story."

"I've got all night," John replied.

"Ow!" hissed Ivy, "Rosie your hand is on my hair!"

"Sorry!" Rosie whispered back.

"Keep your voices down!" Orion jammed his ear closer towards the door in hopes of hearing something useful. Molly had told them to go back to their rooms, but as soon as she left Rosie snuck out of the flat and climbed back in through Ivy's window. All three of them were huddled near the door in hopes of hearing something interesting.

"I remember you," Molly's voice floated through the room, "Weren't you the crazy lady with the camera-phone? The one who got beheaded?"

"Yes, I was, as you so eloquently put it," Irene answered. "But before they could execute me your dear husband...stepped in. I was able to escape to America and work odd jobs, make a living for myself. A few years later, I had Orion but I didn't know who the father was. I couldn't raise him there, so I came back and sought the help of Mr. Holmes. Your brother."

"Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, surprised, "How?"

"He erased my record from the system and found me a small place of residence, a job, and helped enroll Orion in school. But on one condition: that I behaved under his watchful eye and never left town without notifying him first. It's not perfect, but it works. Stroke of luck meeting Ivy at school, I'd never thought I'd see you again Sherlock."

"Likewise," Sherlock fiddled with a button on his chair, then abruptly stood up, "Well it was nice seeing you Miss Adler. Give my brother my regards." He said coolly. "Rosie, get back downstairs. It's time for bed." Sherlock called to the closed room. Rosie scrambled to the window, almost falling out as she did so.

"Bye," Ivy whispered as she helped Rosie down. Orion sheepishly opened the door.

"You heard all that, didn't you?" Irene asked, taking his hand.

"Maybe." He replied. "Well, bye Ivy, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Ivy said meekly from the door. When Orion left Ivy bolted out into the living room.

"What was that? All that talk about being executed and stuff? And Molly why didn't you like her?"

"What?" Molly asked.

"You kept giving her the look." Ivy pointed out.

"Well, I can't see it, can I?" Molly snapped, then stopped. "I'm sorry Ivy. There are things to explain but I'm a bit tired, they'll have to wait till tomorrow. Go onto bed now dear." Molly shooed her away.

Ivy closed the door and stared up at the stars outside her window, deep in thought. This Irene woman was clearly a point of pressure for both her parents and she wanted to know why. Maybe she was connected to Aunt Eurus.

Ivy suddenly sat up straight. She pulled out her laptop and typed in "Irene Sherlock Holmes.", but was disappointed. The stuff that popped up were all old articles about her dad, but nothing of this Irene. However, then she typed in "Irene John Watson", and gasped.

The first link on the page was something she'd never seen before. A blog page, but more specifically, the blog of Dr. John H. Watson.


	7. Finally, the Truth

**Author Note:**

 **Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while since I last published, I've been kind of busy. Anyways, I'm probably going to write up a couple more chapters before this story is concluded, so stay tuned. Also, a huge thank you to the people who have followed my stories and given me feedback, I'm extremely grateful for all your support. If you would like to see more of my work you can check out my profile page. Happy Thanksgiving!**

 **-Irene xx**

Ivy Holmes knew everything now. About her father, about Uncle John, and The Woman.

A storm of conflicted emotions had welled up in her earlier that night—anger, confusion, amazement—but now, as she crouched down in the alleyway with one hand on her knife, she felt nothing but despair. No doubt Mom and Dad would've noticed her absence by now, and she was already lost.

After she had read the very last blog post, to the very last comment, she slammed the laptop down, extinguishing the bright light. The questions were brimming within her, and at that time the only course for her to take seemed to be crystal clear. She needed to have a chat with her uncle.

However, Ivy now felt like a fool. She had stuffed a wad of cash and her phone into her thin jacket, climbed out the window and started making her way to the Tube, after no cabs showed up on the street. There was snow in her boots and her jacket did nothing to stop the chilling wind. Much to her luck, the only stop that came close to Uncle Mycroft's house was three miles away, and her phone's GPS had stopped working.

The sun had started creeping up the horizon. Ivy had been walking for the entire night. Her legs threatened to collapse, and yet the adrenaline and despair seemed to keep her going.

Ivy reached the end of the street, littered with trash and graffiti. She longed for nothing more than to come home, if only she knew where to go.

"Hey you!" Ivy whipped around. Three teenagers, around sixteen maybe, were coming up to her, hoods drawn over their faces. There was something in their hands, but she couldn't see what they were holding. Ivy began to stumble backwards, but it was only a dead end and there was nowhere to run.

"What do you want?" She tried to act brave, but her voice quavered. "I don't have anything for you."

"Your pocket." One of the hooded figures gestured to her jacket, where the outline of a stack of bills was obviously visible. They came closer. Ivy pulled out her knife.

"Ooh, a fighter." Another one chortled. "Let's see what you got, girly!" They cackled and started running, closing in on her.

ooOoo

Molly opened her eyes. Sherlock was snoring right behind her, an arm over her shoulder. She blinked a couple times and turned around.

"Sherlock?" She asked.

"Hmm?" He replied, eyes still closed.

"Where's Ivy?'

Sherlock woke up. He pulled his arm away and sat up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't hear her. It's 7:30. Shouldn't she be taking a shower right now?"

"I did hear footsteps last night." Sherlock frowned. "I thought it was just you."

"Well I'm flattered you think I sound as light as our daughter," Molly acknowledged, "but it wasn't me. Something's up."

"Ivy?" Sherlock called out. There was no answer. His expression changed instantly to worry. "Molls, will you hand me my phone? I need to call Lestrade."

ooOoo

"Well, where could she have gone?" Lestrade demanded agitatedly, furiously pacing the living room. Anderson and his fiancée, Donovan, were investigating the rest of the flat, looking for clues.

"I don't know!" Sherlock plopped himself down on his chair while Molly, John and Rosie talked in a corner.

"Maybe someone came in and...took her." Mrs. Hudson suggested.

"No," Sherlock shook his head. "Because—"

Just then Anderson came running in, holding the laptop. "We found this on her bed. She must've just used it."

Sherlock practically snatched it up and flicked it open to the last viewed website. His expression darkened.

"What is it Sherlock?" Molly asked. John walked over to see.

"Jesus Christ." John said slowly. "She found it."

Sherlock shut the laptop and buried his head in his hands. This was all his fault. He should've told Ivy about everything, right away. His daughter was gone, off somewhere in crime-ridden London. If he was her, where would he go? Answers, of course. She would find the one person who always knew almost anything about everything.

His head snapped up. "Get my coat. I know exactly where she went."

ooOoo

The first kid came at her with a bat. Ivy brandished her knife and tried to fight him, but he kicked it out of her hands and shoved her, pinning her to the pavement. She tried to kick him, but missed. He looked at her with an amused expression on her face and reached down to take the money.

"Boys!" Someone called. Ivy looked up, trying to see the person who had come to her rescue. "Don't you know better than to cause trouble on my turf?"

"Sorry, ma'am." All three of them suddenly backed up and ran away, leaving Ivy confused. Who was this woman? And how did she get these hoods to leave her alone?

Ivy slowly got to her feet, picking up her knife.

"Who are you?" She demanded. The woman laughed softly.

"Who am I?" She repeated. "I think a better question to ask would be, who are you?"

"I'm not supposed to give my name to strangers." Ivy said, feeling somewhat ridiculous.

"But I'm not a stranger, am I?" She whispered. "You know me. All you have to do is _think._ "

Ivy shook her head. "I think you're confusing me with someone else. I've never met you before."

"You've never _met_ me, Ivy Elizabeth Holmes." She chuckled. "But you know who I am now, don't you?"

And then Ivy realized who she was. But before she could open her mouth, someone behind her called her name.

"Ivy!" Ivy turned around. Lestrade was running up to her. "Thank goodness we found you! Your mother and father are so worried about you!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lestrade!" Ivy exclaimed. "I shouldn't have run away! I probably would've gotten robbed if it hadn't been for..." Ivy trailed off. The woman was gone.

"Who?" Lestrade asked.

"Uh, just some lady." Ivy scanned the street for signs of her Aunt Eurus, but there was no one in sight.


	8. The Game Begins

The barely used fireplace was crackling with orange and red flames, sending waves of heat across the flat. Ivy and Molly sat on Uncle John's chair, while Sherlock occupied the lounger opposite.

"That's everything Ivy. No more secrets, I promise." Sherlock put his hands under his chin, something Ivy was already used to seeing but still captured her attention nonetheless.

She chewed her thumb thoughtfully. She already knew most of everything, as she had scanned the blog very thoroughly, but after the discussion all the remaining holes had been filled in. At least, most of them had.

"I just have one more question." Ivy piped up. It was the first time she'd spoken in what seemed like hours. After Lestrade brought her back to Baker Street, Sherlock and Molly sat her down and explained everything to her: John and Sherlock's first meeting, how Sherlock could read everything just by looking at him; Orion's mum, the infamous Irene Adler; Sherlock's rooftop suicide, and then being welcomed back by a broken nose (Ivy giggled when she heard that part); When Uncle John and Mary Morstan got married, when Mary shot Sherlock and turned out to be an assassin, then saved his life by taking a bullet for him (Sherlock's eyes got a little wet when he recounted that part); and of course, Aunt Eurus, who lured Uncle John, Uncle Mycroft and Sherlock into her dungeon to play 'games'. Ivy hadn't slept at all that night but she listened with rapt attention.

"Yes?" Molly asked.

"Well," Ivy sighed. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea to be asking this, but it was important to her. "In the first case—A Study in Pink—the cabbie gave you a choice: arrest him or follow him. Why did you go with him?"

Sherlock's face took on a darker look. "I was an arrogant man. I thought I could beat him, resist the temptation to prove my cleverness. I was wrong. If John—Uncle John, hadn't shown up..."

"Would you have taken the pill Daddy? If he hadn't shot the cabbie. Did you think you had a chance of beating him?"

"I did," Sherlock admitted, "It was foolish on my part. I was so convinced I knew better than him. Only God knows what would've happened if I had swallowed it, provided God isn't a ludicrous fiction dreamt up by inadequates to delegate all responsibility onto an invisible magic friend."

Molly chuckled. There was a couple moments of silence in the flat while Ivy thought about what she wanted to do next. She was intrigued by her Aunt Eurus. According to Sherlock, she was supposedly locked up on an island in the middle of nowhere, yet Ivy was certain it was her who had come to her rescue just a few hours ago. Was it possible she had sought out the help of Uncle Mycroft, like Irene Adler when she came back to London?

"One more thing," Ivy continued.

"Yes, darling?" Molly asked.

"Can I see Aunt Eurus? Meet her, I mean?" Ivy inquired. She didn't want to disclose the meeting on the street...yet.

Sherlock tilted his head thoughtfully. "I don't know Ivy. She's a very powerful woman. She can talk to people, and...sort of change them. I don't think it's a good idea."

"But she's my aunt." Ivy protested. "And besides, you go and play the violin with her sometimes. Uncle Mycroft takes care of her, and you two are still...relatively normal."

Sherlock's mouth twitched. "Maybe." He replied. "But I'll need to check with my brother first."

ooOoo

"How long until we get there?" Ivy shouted to the front seat. The roaring of the helicopter blades made it impossible for anyone to hear anything. Even with the earmuffs, Ivy could still feel the rhythmic thumping of the chopper beating in her head.

"What's that?" Mycroft called back.

"HOW LONG UNTIL WE GET THERE?" Ivy yelled.

"We should be arriving shortly." Sherlock replied. "And Ivy, if you need to talk to us, there's a microphone button on your headset. Should be better for your vocal cords."

"Thanks." Ivy found the button. Molly sat next to her, gazing absentmindedly outside the window. Sherlock was directly in front of her, with Mycroft sitting next to him, piloting the helicopter.

Rosie had begged Uncle John to let her go earlier that day, but he had adamantly refused. Ivy gave her an apologetic look and promised to relay every detail when she got back.

"Sherrinford, do you read me? Over and out." Mycroft spoke into a radio, jerking Ivy out of her thoughts.

"Copy that, Mr. Holmes." A crackly voice on the other end replied. "You are clear to land."

The helicopter lowered itself down slowly onto the beach. Sherrinford was a dismal, gray place. The waves crashed against the rocks in a sinister manner. Ivy couldn't see how someone could walk in and out of here easily, but then again, Aunt Eurus had done other impossible things in the past.

A large black door swung open and the four trotted inside. The inside was about as foreboding as the outside. White lights lined the ceiling and the _clack clack clack_ of people's shoes rang out through the corridor.

"Remember the last time we were here?" Sherlock remarked to Mycroft, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"Oh yes, vividly." Mycroft replied sardonically. "If I recall correctly, we stole a ship and I dressed up as a pirate so that you could sneak in here."

Sherlock grinned as they stepped into an elevator. Ivy looked up at the top as they descended and wondered how many layers of stone and concrete stood between her and the sky.

The lift opened with a whoosh to reveal two security guards standing in front of a large door, both with earplugs in.

"Stay three feet away from the glass. Do not pass any sharp objects through the hatch. Your movements will be monitored." They instructed monotonously.

Sherlock nodded as Mycroft stepped forward and slid a card through a reader. A light on the top of the door turned green, and Sherlock made to open it.

"Wait," Mycroft spoke up. "Perhaps it would be better if we only sent in two. Four is quite a lot for her." He stepped up to Ivy.

"I'll take her." Sherlock cut in. "I'm her father." Ivy was secretly glad. She'd much rather face her aunt with her father, even though Mycroft was smarter.

"Just be careful." Mycroft stepped back. "We'll be out here."

Sherlock nodded to Molly, who gave them a reassuring smile. Then Ivy pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

Aunt Eurus was standing behind a glass wall, playing the violin. It wasn't a tune she recognized, but Ivy had the funny feeling Eurus had composed it herself.

"Hello Ivy." Eurus said, her back still towards them. She stopped playing and set the violin down, turning around to face them for the first time. "Hello, brother dear."

"Eurus." Sherlock acknowledged her. Ivy noticed his grip tightened on her shoulder. So she _was_ the woman on the street, but there her hair had been tied up in a tight blonde bun and a pair of glasses had framed her face. Now the glasses were gone and her hair was hanging down in long black waves down to her lower back.

"Green." Eurus waved her hand towards Ivy.

"Sorry?" Ivy blinked, confused.

"Your eyes." Eurus purred. "Much unlike my brothers. Or your mother. Where is she, by the way? I've yet to meet my sister-in-law, and I don't recall receiving an invitation for the happy day."

"She's not here." Sherlock replied, almost too quickly. Eurus tilted her head.

"No." Eurus smiled, sending a chill across Ivy's spine. "Neither is your brother, is he?"

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth, but he didn't look back.

"Do you play?" Eurus asked suddenly, holding out her violin.

"No." Ivy shook her head. She hadn't really thought about it before. Music always seemed so unimportant to her, so she had never asked to learn.

Eurus stepped forward and put the violin in the hatch, gesturing for Ivy to take it. Ivy looked at Sherlock for permission, who nodded quickly.

She took the instrument in her hands. It was surprisingly smooth, for being entirely made out of wood. Ivy wasn't sure how to hold it, but she tried to replicate how her father played it. She swung the violin onto her left shoulder and grasped the bow in her right. Sherlock had showed her the bow hold a long time ago, but Ivy had forgotten most of it.

"You learn quickly." Eurus observed. "Play something."

"I don't know how." Ivy muttered. "I've never played before."

"Then this is your chance." Ivy uncertainly put the bow on the first string and pulled. A low note rang out. Ivy pushed the bow back up. It slid around for a bit but Ivy directed it back in a somewhat straight line. Then she moved the bow to the next string, revealing a slightly higher tone. It was quite fun, actually. She put her fingers on the string, sliding them around to create different pitches.

"Mr. Holmes?" A voice issued through the loudspeaker. Ivy stopped playing and hastily set the violin down in the hatch. "Your time is up."

"Bye, Aunt Eurus." Ivy waved timidly. Eurus looked a bit taken aback at being called 'Aunt', but she grinned.

"Goodbye Ivy. I should hope to see you again. You are very...interesting."

Ivy wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, but she gave a small smile and quickly left.

On the ride back to London, Ivy realized something as she sat in the helicopter, flying across the Atlantic. Her father's cases might not entail getting shot at, breaking into top-secret institutions and uncovering dark truths about his past anymore, but that didn't necessarily mean the adventures of the consulting detective were over. Because he had a new life now. A new chapter, one as a dad, godfather and husband, and that was really all that mattered.

The game is never over. It is just beginning.

 **Author Note:**

 **I'm happy to officially pronounce this story completed. I'll be writing more works later on, however, so don't worry. :). I hope you enjoyed, this is my first fan fiction on this site. You can check out the prequel to this book, New Beginnings, on my profile page. Thanks for reading!**

 **-Irene xx**


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